


Chirp City

by BananaStickers



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Ficlet, Hate Sex, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:52:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaStickers/pseuds/BananaStickers
Summary: Ryan Kesler and Ryan Johansen get into a summer Twitter feud.It escalates.





	Chirp City

**Author's Note:**

> [Take a peek at this link](https://nhl.nbcsports.com/2018/08/06/brief-history-of-ryan-kesler-ryan-johansen-feud/) for a brief history of the glorious Kes/Joey feud.
> 
> Kesler's starting tweet is not explicitly mentioned here, but it was "How’s summer training going? Want to meet me in the streets before we get going on the ice?"
> 
> A few other notes: Kesler recently had hip surgery, and he does indeed have a Superman tattoo except it's a K instead of an S because...that's the kind of guy he is.

It’s supposed to be a joke, a quick chirp, nothing really meant by it. A couple of NBA players got into a street brawl, and reading the details makes Ryan Kesler think of Ryan Johansen, their own bitter feud sometimes spilling off the ice as well. It takes ten seconds to think of the diss and even less time to tweet it out, and then Ryan puts it out of his brain and goes fishing.

When he gets back to civilization, his phone is blown up.

_Really? This is still happening?_

That’s from John Gibson - what a weirdo. Goalies, you know?

_i think u fuckin love him secretly_

Corey Perry’s an idiot. Ryan already knew that.

_Just fuck already and get it over with, Kes. ffs._

And that one from Getzlaf. That one, he ends up staring at for a long, long couple of minutes. This is what people think of him and Johansen, really?

Ryan deletes his tweet, but it’s too late. Joey’s already responded, a snarky little response that gets Ryan’s blood up a little bit. He turns his phone on silent and tries not to think about it for the rest of the night.

Unsuccessfully. _I’ll pay for your parking_ is what the tweet says, and suddenly Ryan is thinking about a rental car, pulling up and parking at Joey’s place, throwing open the door and making him choke on his dick.

It’s a hard thought to shake, so after exactly three days he decides to stop fighting it and hits up Joey’s DMs: _im using the most expensive parking, get ready_

There’s no response back, and that’s not unexpected. Ryan would be shocked if he got one. But that’s not going to stop him from crashing Nashville; he knows exactly where Joey lives. It’s not like it’s hard to find out, and when you’re world-class in chirping, every little detail could give you a leg up at some point. Ryan makes a point to find this shit out about his best enemies.

It takes Ryan another couple weeks to schedule some time away from rehab but he’s finally on the plane to Nashville. He doesn’t rent a car, though. Lyft is good enough. No parking needed.

Joey doesn’t look all that surprised when he opens the door to find Ryan Kesler’s smirking mug in his face. Somehow, he expected this, which makes it that much better.

“Fucking shit,” he sighs, standing in his doorway, Nashville Predators sweats hung low. “You need me to get you a handicap placard for your rental car? How’s those hips?”

“You’re about to find out,” Ryan smirks, and weasels his way past Joey, putting a shoulder into him as he walks past. Joey’s condo is ostentatious, just like the man himself. “You know, that was a pretty solid chirp, baby. I’m fuckin’ shocked. Gimme another one.”

Joey pauses, looking utterly, stupidly dumbfounded, before a smug grin cracks his features. “You should ask to get traded back to Vancouver. Wanna know why?” He doesn’t wait for Kesler to answer, just rambles on. “Because all that free rent you’re giving me in your head would be worth a fortune up there. You know, uh, with the housing crisis - “

“I get it,” Ryan drolls, then narrows his eyes suspiciously. “No fucking way you’re smart enough to think of that yourself. Where are you getting these from, the internet? A teammate?” Joey snaps his mouth closed and _blushes,_ a bright pretty red, and Kesler throws back his head and laughs in delight. “Shoulda fuckin’ known you’re too dumb to come up with these yourself.”

 _“You’re_ too dumb,” Joey retorts, uselessly.

“Oh, there’s the Johansen we all know and love. Fuckin’ moron.”

Ryan thinks that Joey is entirely too pretty when he’s stammering and stuttering, gums flapping uselessly while he tries to think of a good comeback that’s never going to appear. He wants those gums flapping on something _else_ , but all in good time.

~~~~~

“Look at this thing,” Joey moans, while they’re tugging at each other and kissing like they’re fighting, all teeth and growled curses and scratching nails. He nips at Ryan’s tattoo, the big _K_ in the Superman logo, just visible below a shirt sleeve. “You’re not good enough to have this.”

“Says fuckin’ who?”

“Says _everyone_ , ya fucking plug.”

“Yeah, well.” Ryan grabs Joey’s ass and bites at his lower lip, making him squeak. “I’m gonna be _your_ superhero when I deep dick you better than anyone ever has, sweetie.”

Joey scoffs. “Sorry, I think you mean when _I_ fuck _you_. I’m not the one bending over for half the league.”

Ryan laughs. “No, just for me, baby.”

~~~~~

They fight over who’s going to bottom, of course, even though Joey insists that being the bottom doesn’t mean that you’re the bitch. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to bottom then?” Ryan asks at that proclamation. “No need to be ashamed that you want my cock, honey.”

Joey, for perhaps the fifteenth time in the encounter, blushes. Ryan thinks if he blushes any more he’s just going to turn red and stay that way. “No,” he shoots back. “But your hips don’t even fucking work. They didn’t even work _before_ your surgery, I bet.”

“These hips worked better than yours an _hour_ after my surgery.” Ryan pushes Joey against a wall and thrusts hard against his thigh, as if proving a point.

“Well, fuck off, _you’re_ bottoming.”

Ryan leans close, gently bites Joey’s chin, relishes in the little shudder that goes through him. “Well, one of us needs to have some fucking brains here, but don’t worry, honey. I have an idea.”

~~~~~

They play rock-paper-scissors.

Joey loses.

“Best out of three,” he whines.

“You’re gonna get fucked, and you’re gonna love it,” Ryan growls in his ear, and that shuts Joey right up. “God knows I couldn’t trust you to finger me open. I mean, you got no hands.”

Joey bites back a whimper as Ryan grinds him up against the wall, rucking his shirt up to touch his bare skin. “Bet you want me to call your name,” Joey says, “because it’s not like you hear anyone else calling it, with how you’re sitting on the bench for 55 minutes a night.”

“Just stop while you’re ahead, honey.”

~~~~~

They stumble their way to Joey’s bedroom, and Ryan kisses him up against the dresser until Joey is squirming and muttering nonsense and thinking with the brain below his waist instead of in his head. When Ryan gently nudges him down, he goes, sinking to his knees. “Oh fuck,” he breathes, as Joey tugs at his shorts. “Should have known you’d go down so easy. You do on the ice, why would it be any different here?”

Joey gives him a shitty look, but doesn’t stop unbuttoning his shorts. “I’ll bite your small dick off,” he warns. “Just keep talking, Kesler. I’ll do it.”

“Oh, come on, baby, don’t be like that,” Ryan coos. “With how often you hit pipe, I know you’re gonna hit my pipe real good.”

Now Joey pauses, crinkling his nose. “That one fucking sucked,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ryan concedes. “Not my best. Still better than anything you’re gonna put up, sweetheart.”

“Well, _you’re_ easier to undress than a drunk chick.”

Ryan sighs, tangling his fingers in Joey’s long mop. “Honey, that doesn’t work off the ice. You’re supposed to say that after you deke a d-man out of his shorts. Of course I’m easy to undress now. You’re gonna suck my dick, fuck yeah I’ll get undressed.” He grabs Joey’s chin, tilts his head up to look Ryan in the eye. “And you’re gonna suck it so good, aren’t you?”

The look in Joey’s eyes is a beautiful mixture of loathing and lust, and yeah, he _does_ suck dick so good.

~~~~~

They don’t say much while they’re fucking. Ryan _wants_ to, but he also doesn’t want Joey to stop making the sweet little noises that are being punched out of his mouth with every thrust, and he’s afraid if he says anything, that Joey’s gonna stop.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he mutters against Joey’s shoulder, nipping the skin there, and Joey tenses like he’s waiting for a chirp. But none are coming; Ryan meant it. Perhaps the first sincere thing he’s said all day.

“Relax and let me take care of you, baby,” Ryan says in his ear, one hand stroking Joey’s cock, and he means that, too.

~~~~~

“At least you got a quick release in bed, cause you sure ain’t got it on the ice,” Joey says while they’re lounging in bed, post-orgasm, and Ryan snorts a laugh.

“Is that another one you got off the internet, baby?”

“Naw,” Joey says, looking delighted. “That one’s all me.”

Ryan stretches, biting back a smile. “Maybe I can stick around while you try to think of another good one. I might be here all night, though.”

“All night?” Joey looks put-off, but Ryan can tell it’s just an act. “It would take you all night just to get it up again. In fact, I think I should fuck you this time.”

“In your fucking dreams, bottom boy,” Ryan informs him, and when Joey opens his mouth - to protest, or maybe to throw another terrible chirp - Ryan yanks him close in a hard kiss.

No more chirps, he decides. Joey’s mouth is going to be occupied with other things instead.


End file.
